


The wooing of miss Memphis Belle

by Exdraghunt



Category: Starlight Express - Phillips/Stilgoe/Webber
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 19:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exdraghunt/pseuds/Exdraghunt
Summary: AKA: "How Poppa met Belle."





	The wooing of miss Memphis Belle

 

                “Well, come on, McCoy. There’s gotta be a coach you fancy.”

                ‘Ramblin’ McCoy raised a skeptical eyebrow at his fellow steamer before looking out over the assortment of coaches milling around the yard. He and the other passenger engines were relaxing at the edge of the coach sidings after a long day on the rails, oogling the display of varnish before them. It was a common enough activity for the engines, and usually prefaced the choosing of a berthwarmer to spend the night with. Assuming an engine didn’t already have a steady coach, at least.

                McCoy was one of the unluckies without a gal. His last heart-throb, a tall parlor car with flowing brown locks, had been transferred to another section of the line the week before; leaving him alone again. The other engines had been encouraging him to get back into the game, but so far he had been hesitant. McCoy didn’t much like spending his downtime with a different coach every night like some of the other engines did.

                “I dunno, boys. I guess I’m just waiting for the right car.” McCoy said slowly, examining the selection. There were chair cars, parlor cars, baggage cars, observation cars, dining cars, and every other sort of coach you could imagine. All there for the taking.

                Then, McCoy saw her. A new coach, one he didn’t know, with dark, ebony skin and rich mahogany wood plating. Her black hair was piled on her head in an elegant bun, and deep red velvet draped around her waist. She was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous.

                One of the other engines followed his gaze and scoffed. “Is that a Pullman? You’re mooning over a _sleeper_?”

                “Can it, Smokey.” McCoy frowned at him. “Look at her, she’s clearly first class. And she’s beautiful.”

                “First class or not, she’s still a Pullman.” Smokey insisted. “They’re fun for a fling, a few nights of frisky business, but you can’t keep ‘em. Next season she’ll be all over another engine and you’ll be left in the dust.”

                The irritating part was that Smokey was right. Everybody knew you couldn’t go steady with a Pullman sleeper, it just wasn’t possible. Many only stayed with a railroad a season before moving on to another. Still, McCoy couldn’t let such beauty pass him by, even if he only got to have it to himself a single night. “Well, I’m gonna go talk to her.”

                “Talk to her?” One of the other engines, a young hothead called Heath, laughed. “Nah, that ain’t how you get a coach. You gotta strut up to her and go ‘Hey babe. Want to experience a _real_ engine?’ No piece of varnish can resist that.”

                “Yeah, is that how you won Velvet?” McCoy shot back, bringing laughter from the others. Velvet was the lounge car that had dumped Heath loudly and in front of everyone a few days previous. The engine had been the butt of many a joke since. “I’m still gonna go talk to her. You jokers can stay here and watch.”

                With that, McCoy skated away from his buddies and headed towards the lovely Pullman sleeper. She was even prettier up close, looking at the engine approaching her with a skeptical expression, and McCoy found himself uncharacteristically at a loss for words. Stuttering out a ‘hello’ wouldn’t do for a first impression at all, he had to be strong. Tough.

                “H-hey, pretty lady.” McCoy swallowed the lump in his throat and found his bravado. “I’ve been lookin’ for a lovely coach like you to be my girl. How’d you like to go on a stroll with me?”

                “Hmm. . .” The sleeping car looked him up and down critically. “No.”

                “No?” McCoy was taken aback. No coach had ever refused him before. “What do you mean, no?”

                “Look, if all you want is a quick fuck, then say so. I’ll be happy to oblige.” She said bluntly. “But I’m no one’s girl. You know us sleeping cars, can never stay with one engine for too long. We’re only fun for a fling.”

                McCoy winced. “You heard us?”

                “Didn’t need to. You passenger engines are all the same.” She shook her head and began skating away. “Besides, I can’t go with an engine who won’t even ask me my name.”

                “Wha-“ McCoy watched her go with a confused expression. “Wait! What’s your name?”

                “They call me Memphis Belle,” The sleeping car called back before she disappeared into the coach shed, territory where even passenger engines were not allowed without permission.

                “Memphis Belle,” McCoy said to himself as he returned to the other engines. He didn’t even hear their laughter or teasing over his failure. The young steam engine was smitten. One way or another ,he would woo miss Memphis Belle.

               

 

                Over the course of the next few weeks, McCoy did his best to show off to his crush. Whenever Memphis Belle was near, McCoy was sure to be nearby practicing skate tricks, pulling heavy loads, or just flexing his muscles for the pretty sleeper. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw her hide a smile and a giggle behind her hands a few times. The other coaches sure were taking notice, and McCoy had more than a few flirt back, but he only had eyes for one gal.

                After a month, the stars finally aligned. The coaches were throwing a party in their shed for a human holiday, Independence Day, and everyone had been invited. And, it was scheduled for a day that Memphis Belle would be at the yard, instead of off on an overnight run to a far-away town.

                After finishing his work for the day, McCoy dashed straight to the washracks and started giving himself the deepest cleaning of his career. He had to look his best.

Grabbing the stiffest bristle brush available, the engine scrubbed hard to get all the coal dust and dirt out of his seams. Plating came off to get underneath it, and McCoy even carefully brushed at the glass gauges of his backhead to make sure they shone. Then it was time for the polishing cloth, buffing the scratches and dings out of his dark green livery until the paint gleamed with a glowing luster. As a final touch, he slicked back his dark brown hair and brushed his moustache perfectly straight. At last, ready for the party.

McCoy’s extended grooming routine meant that he didn’t arrive at the party until after it was underway, but that suited him fine. Nothing like being fashionably late to spice up a party.

Drinks were raised in McCoy’s direction as he entered the shed, various rolling stock calling out greetings over the sound of the music being played over the phonograph someone had nicked and boosted the volume of. Wading through the crowds of cars and avoiding the couples waltzing on the floor, McCoy returned the greetings with a wave of his hand and kept an eye out for the one car he wanted to see.

As he reached the back of the shed, past the dance floor, McCoy finally spotted his ebony enchantress. Memphis Belle was leaning against one of the shed walls, idly talking with some other Pullmans with a drink in her hand. The sleeper cars all looked very similar, with their elegant silk or velvet skirts and heavily varnished wood paneling, but McCoy only had eyes for one.

“Miss Memphis Belle?” McCoy asked respectfully as he held out a hand to coach of his dreams. “Would you care to join me for a dance?”

The coaches all tittered in amusement, and Memphis Belle just held her chin up high. “Just a dance?”

“Just a dance; unless you’re interested in anything more.”

Apparently satisfied with this answer, she took his hand and allowed herself to be led out onto the dance floor. “Just a dance, then. For now.”

“I apologize for the way I spoke to you last time we met, Miss Memphis Belle.” McCoy said sincerely as he led her in a slow waltz. “It was right rude of me.”

“I have heard much worse in my days.” She reassured him. “And you may just call me Belle.”

“Belle,” McCoy repeated, pleased with how it sounded. “I want you to know I still think you’re the most beautiful coach I ever did see. I would love if you would go steady with me.”

“A sleeping car can never do that.” Belle said sadly even as she twirled in his arms. “The summer season is only here for another two months, then I’ll be gone and on another railway.”

“For two months, then.” McCoy persisted. “Even if you have to leave after that. Who knows, maybe you’ll return next summer.”

“We’ll have to see.” Finally, Belle smiled. “Until then, maybe it won’t be so bad to go with you, Ramblin’ McCoy.”

 

 

The next few weeks went by like a pleasant blur. Belle was so easy to talk to, McCoy could spend whole evenings just sitting and discussing nearly any topic with her. She always had stories from the humans that rode aboard her, but even when conversation failed the couple found satisfaction purely in each other’s company. It was a state of bliss that could never last.

                Summer came to an end, and with it so did tourist season. Which meant it was time for most of the Pullman cars being rented by the railway to be transferred to other locales. McCoy had held up hope that Belle would remain behind with the more permanent compliment of sleeper cars, but said hopes were dashed when the call from Pullman headquarters came in. Belle was moving on.

                “I’m sorry, McCoy.” Belle said softly as she kissed his cheek, “I’ll try to get assigned here again next summer.”

                With that, she hitched up behind several of her fellow Pullman cars and their train pulled out. McCoy felt part of his heart go with it.

 

 

                When next summer rolled around, McCoy waited with baited breath for the summer Pullmans to arrive at the yard. Unfortunately for the engine, Belle was not among their number. She was off somewhere else, on the other side of their huge country. That’s what he got for trying to have a relationship with a sleeping car.

 

 

                It was nearly three years before McCoy saw Belle again. The engine had been invited to represent the Kansas City Central in the National Train Races, a great honor for any locomotive. McCoy arrived in the far away city the races were being held at and marveled at all of the engines and cars from all over North America. There were even Canadian and Mexican engines there, in shapes and sizes he’d never seen before.

                Many of the engines had arrived without racing partners, leaving them to look for one among the local cars. McCoy was one such engine, so the night before the race found him wandering the foreign yard looking for any uncoupled cars.

                “Belle?!” McCoy exclaimed in pleased surprise when he saw a familiar figure standing alongside another engine.

                “McCoy?” Belle immediately broke away from her engine to embrace her old love. “You’re here to race?”

                “I am. Kansas City Central chose me this year.” McCoy said proudly. “Belle, would you run as my partner?”

                “Hey, buddy. She’s my partner.” The other engine who had been standing with Belle strode over to McCoy, poking him in the chest with one meaty finger.

                “Sorry, Rivet. I can’t race with you anymore, you’ll have to find another car.”

                Rivet gaped, before frowning and storming off with a huff.

 

 

                The next day, McCoy and Belle took second place in the first heat, then third in the final. But placing in the race and the pride of the Kansas City Central was nothing compared to the pain of leaving Belle again.

                This would be the lot of the couple, to cross paths again and again at races, or for a summer season, before leaving again. It was hard, but the brief moments spent together were just enough to sustain them during the long times apart.

                Years passed, and so everything began to change. Even with many victories under his belt, McCoy couldn’t keep up his winning streak against the new diesel engines that had started entering the races. Nor could he stand against them at home. McCoy was relegated to freight service, then to standby service, then to reserve. Other steam engines met the scrapper’s torch one by one, and McCoy was ready to be next when he was purchased by a mysterious buyer with a small railway up in the mountains. The AL &W.

                Belle’s days as a sleeper car were also numbered as progress marched on. Railways didn’t want heavyweight, ornately decorated sleepers anymore. They wanted economy, modern sleekness, lightweight coaches.

                It was a shock to everyone when Pullman closed their doors, ceasing their sleeper car service forever. Coaches were scattered to the four winds, most eventually meeting their fates in the scrapyards.

 

 

                ‘Poppa’ McCoy groaned as he shunted a line of freight cars into their siding at the AV yard. His old plates and rivets ached, but they always did these days. Slowly, he sank down onto an old buffer to take a rest from work.

                “Hey, Poppa.” Dustin the hopper car gently settled at the feet of the old steamer, looking earnestly up his elder. “You doing okay?”

                “Just fine, son.” Poppa affectionately rubbed the car’s helmet. “When you get old like me, you just have to take things a little slow.”

                “That should be the motto of the whole railway.” Flat Top flopped down next to his best friend. “I hear Control just bought another ancient relic, some antique sleeping car that doesn’t even roll anymore. He’s gonna turn this whole place into a museum.”

               

                A little later, Poppa stopped by the car shop. Just to satisfy his curiosity. Just as Flat Top had said, there was a lowboy semi truck sitting next to the building with an old wooden sleeping car tied down to it’s bed. The car’s wooden sides were green with moss and neglect, varnish long gone from the once elegant wood, but the faintest hint of gold script could still be made out. PULLMAN, in bold letters over the windows. And under them, on the side panel in neat cursive, the name ‘Memphis Belle.’

                Poppa could hardly believe his eyes. “Belle?”

                There was a groan from the sleeping car, before slowly the wooden body shifted to a more humanoid shape. It was her. Belle looked old and tired, dark glasses shielding her eyes from view, but it was undeniably the same coach Poppa had fallen in love with.

                “McCoy?” Belle’s voice was crackly from disuse, but still contained hope. “Is that you?”

                “It’s me.” Poppa came closer, noticing with some sorrow that most of Belle’s wheels were missing. Since she couldn’t get off the flatbed she was seated on, he went to her to embrace her in a careful hug. “You look just as beautiful as I remember.”

                “You old flatterer.” Belle laughed weakly, picking at the tattered and musty fabric of her skirt. “No one’s taken care of me in decades, I’m sure I look terrible.”

                “I don’t care.” Poppa kissed her softly. “No matter how you look, or how rusty and crusty I’ve gotten, now we’re somewhere that Pullman can’t separate us again.”

                “I guess you’re right.” Belle returned the kiss with more enthusiasm. “Only took a century for us to reach that point.”

                “For you, I’d wait forever.” Poppa responded sincerely. “Control will have you fixed up, and then I’ll show you around my yard. I can’t wait to introduce you to my son, Rusty.”

                “Your son?”

                “Adopted.” Poppa explained. “Found on the trackside when he was brand new. But I’ve raised him since he was a trainlet. I know you’ll love him.”

                “I’m sure I will.” Belle leaned against the old engine with a sigh. “Maybe, this will finally be home.”


End file.
